


All That Really Matters

by astano



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 06:34:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astano/pseuds/astano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The thing is, Santana just can’t seem to stop thinking about her."</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That Really Matters

They’re just finishing up practice when Shelby calls them all towards her. “I wouldn’t normally ask,” she says, “but I’m struggling to find a babysitter for tonight. If any of you want to earn a little extra cash, let me know.”

The girls glance around and when it looks like no one is going to volunteer, Santana thinks fuck it - a baby can’t be too difficult to handle and the money will definitely come in useful for something. “I’ll do it,” she offers.

“Great, do you want to stay behind and I’ll give you my details.”

Santana nods and as the others file out of the room, she hovers by the piano. Shelby scrawls down her address on a square of paper. “I’ll be leaving around eight,” she says, handing the paper over to Santana. “If you want to come a little earlier, I can show you where everything is and you can meet Beth before I put her down?”

“Yeah, will do, Ms. C,” Santana says, folding the paper up and shoving it in the pocket of her Cheerios jacket. “I’ll see you later.”

* * *

At just after seven, Santana is outside Shelby’s apartment, knocking on the door. When Shelby answers, she’s got Beth on one hip and is trying to put in an earring with her free hand.

“Sorry, sorry,” she says. “This little monster is refusing to be anywhere that isn’t bodily attached to another human being at the moment.”

Santana looks warily over at Beth who grins, cheekily and grabs a fistful of Shelby’s hair. The kid’s kinda cute when she pulls the hair across her face like a curtain, hiding behind it, and Santana can’t help but return the grin.

“D’you want me to take her?” Santana asks, already half holding her arms out.

Shelby nods and shifts Beth around, placing her in Santana’s grasp. “You can take her through into the living room, if you want,” Shelby says, gesturing to the door behind her. “She normally goes down around half seven, though, so don’t get her too worked up or she’ll never go to sleep.”

Santana wanders through to the living room, taking in the toys and various baby paraphernalia scattered throughout the room. She puts Beth down in the corner of the sofa and sits cross legged, facing her. Beth gurgles happily and then sticks her fist in her mouth. Santana lets out a laugh. “Do you want to read a story?” She asks, trying to keep her voice normal, because there’s no way she’s going to be caught talking nonsense to the kid, even if there’s a small part of her that wants to melt at how adorable she looks.

Obviously, Beth doesn’t respond, but Santana glances around, spotting a picture book on the coffee table in front of her and grabbing it. She doesn’t know if the kid can crawl or anything so she picks her up again and shuffles until she’s in the corner and Beth is ensconced in her lap.

She’s still reading to Beth when Shelby makes an appearance fifteen minutes later, only she thinks Beth’s asleep, but doesn’t want to stop reading, just in case she’s not.

“You’re good with her,” Shelby says and Santana flushes. She really doesn’t think she’s maternal on like any level, and tends to feel more awkward around kids than anything else, but Beth seems to be easy to please.

She looks up from the book and suddenly finds her flush deepening as she gazes at Shelby. “Wow, you look nice,” she says.

It’s not as if she’s never realised Shelby is attractive – she’s a hot blooded teenage lesbian, so she _has_ noticed – but there’s something about seeing her out of a professional environment that notches up the attractiveness to a whole new level.

“Thanks,” Shelby responds. She unconsciously straightens out her dress, pulling it downwards and the action reveals more of her cleavage. Santana struggles to move her eyes back to Shelby’s face, hoping her leering isn’t too obvious.

“Do you think you can put Beth down? I’ll go make a bottle for her – she’s normally asleep before she’s even finished it, so if you can manage to get her into the crib without waking her up, she should go down easy.”

At Santana’s nod, Shelby goes off into the kitchen, reappearing a few minutes later with a warm bottle of baby formula.

“I’m going to head out now,” Shelby says, after handing Santana the bottle and watching as Beth starts to guzzle down the liquid. “I’ll be back around ten. If anything happens or you need to get hold of me, you have my number, right?”

“Yeah,” Santana replies. “But we’ll be fine.”

Shelby leaves and it’s just Santana and Beth. There’s a momentary panic when Santana realises she’s never actually been left alone with a baby before, but then Beth is heavy in her arms as she finishes off the last of the bottle, her eyes already closed and Santana thinks she’ll be fine if the kid just stays asleep.

In the end, Beth wakes up a couple of times, but Santana shushes her back to sleep with some gentle rocking and the murmur of a lullaby she only half remembers from her own childhood. When Shelby returns, she’s sat on the sofa, watching a DVD and is half asleep herself.

“You have a good time?” she asks.

Shelby shrugs and kicks off her shoes, collapsing onto the other side of the sofa. “I think I’m too old to be dating,” she says.

“Don’t be stupid.” Santana quirks an eyebrow in Shelby’s direction and lets her eyes sweep across her body. “You’re, what? Thirty-five? And you’re like super hot. Any man would kill to go on a date with you.”

“I’m forty-two, but thanks, I guess.”

“Still, if I were into older women, I so would not be turning you down.”

Shelby’s eyes snap over to Santana and there’s a slight blush to her cheeks. Santana smirks. “That’s... really quite inappropriate, Santana,” Shelby says, her blush deepening as Santana’s smirk grows wider.

“Just telling it how it is.”

Shelby changes the subject quickly and not long after, Santana’s walking back to her car with a twenty shoved in the back pocket of her jeans.

* * *

Santana _really_ isn’t into older women, and she really, really isn’t into older women who happen to also be the adoptive mother of her best friend’s baby, the birth mother of another kind of friend, _and_ the coach of her glee club, because that shit is all sorts of fucked up.

The thing is, Santana just can’t seem to stop thinking about her.

When Shelby turns up to sub for their usual math teacher, Santana should be concentrating on quadratic equations, but all she can think about is bending Shelby over the teacher’s desk and doing things that would be guaranteed to make her scream Santana’s name.

In glee club practice, she entertains the fantasy of pushing her against the piano and just going down on her for _days_.

It’s all kinds of distracting.

When Shelby mentions she needs a babysitter again, Santana’s quick to jump at the opportunity. Granted, it’s not like Shelby’s going to actually be there for more than ten minutes, but Santana can’t help the slight thrum of anticipation at the thought of being alone with her for even that short a time.

Beth’s already down when she arrives later that evening and Shelby answers her door with a glass of wine in her hand and a much more relaxed air around her.

“Looking hot again, Ms. C,” Santana says.

At Shelby’s warning glare, Santana merely smirks. She brushes past her on the way through to the living room and she’s sure she can hear the woman take a quick breath in at the contact. She doesn’t necessarily have any intention of upping the light flirting to something with actual intent, but it’s definitely fun to tease a little.

* * *

Sectionals is a fucking joke. Santana knows she killed her duet with Mercedes and they were _so_ much better than New Directions. As far as she’s concerned, it’s obvious there was some sort of foul play happening; she really wouldn’t put it past Rachel to have found some way of bribing the judges.

But now, they’ve re-entered the fold in a fucking heartbreaking display of camaraderie. Really, if she hadn’t been trying so hard not to cry, she’d have been rolling her eyes at it all. And Shelby’s their new co-director, and semi-permanent sub for the health studies class.

It means she has a lot more work to do, which is how Santana finds herself over at Shelby’s on a Saturday afternoon, entertaining Beth, while Shelby sits at her desk, trying to grade papers. She’s been at it for a good three hours without a break, which by anyone’s standards, is a long fucking time.

“I’m going to take Beth for a walk,” Santana says. “I mean, if it’s okay with you?”

Shelby looks up and nods. “Yeah, I’m sure she’ll appreciate the fresh air. Just put her warm coat on, will you? It’s getting colder out.”

“Why don’t you come with us? You look like you need a break.”

Shelby sighs, but nods again and gets up. “You’re right, I do.”

Within ten minutes, they’re out the door, walking down Shelby’s street towards the park. Santana’s pushing the stroller while Shelby walks next to her with one hand curled loosely around the end of the handle nearest her.

Beth’s gurgling and pointing at everything they pass and most of the conversation along the way involves one of them saying things like, “that’s a _tree_ Beth. Can you say _tree_?” Of course, Beth just giggles and then points to something else that’s caught her interest.

By the time they’ve actually reached the park, Beth seems to have fallen asleep and it’s just Santana and Shelby walking quietly side by side. There’s a cafe by the entrance and they decide to sit for a while, hoping Beth will wake up again so she doesn’t miss anything.

They’re not really talking about anything important, but it’s nice, Santana thinks, to be able to have a conversation with someone who wants to talk about more than makeup or gossip or any of the other thousand and one things that she would normally talk about.

Just as Santana’s about to set Shelby straight on exactly why _Desperate Housewives_ is possibly the best show ever to come into existence (she said the conversation was different, not any less pointless), they’re interrupted by an old couple a few tables away.

“You have a beautiful baby,” Mrs. Old Lady says.

Shelby smiles over at her and nods. “Thank you.”

“So adorable and she’s so good as well.”

“She’s sleeping,” Santana says. “Give her five minutes and she’ll probably be screaming the place down.”

Mrs. Old Lady laughs as she gets up from her seat. “I’m sure,” she says. “Take care. And take care of the little one, too.”

When the couple have moved away, Santana looks at Shelby thoughtfully for a second. “You know,” she says, “I’m pretty sure they thought we were together.”

Shelby sucks in a sharp breath as she turns to stare at Santana. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m old enough to be your mother.”

“You don’t look it.” Their eyes are still locked together and Santana reaches across the table, tracing her thumb over Shelby’s knuckles. It’s just a brief touch, but Shelby’s hand twitches and she lets out a shaky breath.

“I’m also your teacher...”

The words hang there for an indeterminate length of time as Santana refuses to look away.

“I don’t care,” she says finally. “And you don’t either. Why else would you keep inviting me back.”

“You’re good with Beth. I trust you with her.” It’s weak and Shelby knows it. Her eyes drop finally, but Santana reaches out, pushing up her chin and says, “Bullshit. You want me.”

“Santana, please don’t.” She glances around nervously but there’s no one paying them any attention. “Not here,” she says, anyway.

“Then let’s go.”

* * *

Shelby manages to get the still sleeping Beth into her crib and closes the door gently behind her. Santana’s leaning against the wall outside the room and grabs for Shelby’s hand as she passes, spinning their bodies and pushing Shelby up against the wall.

They’re tight against each other, and Santana slides her thigh between Shelby’s legs, pushing her skirt higher as she presses upwards. There’s only the thin layer of Shelby’s underwear between them and, fuck yeah, Santana can already feel the heat of Shelby’s centre through the material.

She watches as Shelby’s head drops back against the wall, her eyes fluttering as she lets out a ragged breath. “We really shouldn’t be doing this,” Shelby says, but her hips are already rocking into Santana’s thigh and her hands are running the length of Santana’s back.

That is the weakest protest Santana’s ever heard, but she’s not going to continue unless Shelby tells her it’s okay. “We can stop...” she offers.

And perhaps it’s a little unfair of her to follow the statement with a series of kisses along Shelby’s jaw, but she can’t help herself. And she is certainly not fully in control of her hands as they skim up Shelby’s sides and around to cup her breasts. The woman is so damn attractive, it’s kinda hard for Santana not to be touching her now they’ve found themselves in this position.

Shelby shakes her head. “No,” she whispers. “Don’t stop.”

“Do you have a bedroom?” It’s a stupid question, because, _of course_ she does, but it has the desired outcome of Shelby leading Santana further down the hall and into a room with a bed. She pushes Shelby down onto the edge of the bed and straddles her lap. “Tell me you want this,” she says.

“I do. God help me, I do.”

It’s enough and Santana leans forward to kiss her, pushing them gently down onto the bed in the process. Shelby moans into the kiss as Santana’s hands push up under her shirt and scratch across the skin of her stomach.

“Take this off,” she mumbles against Shelby’s lips and Shelby starts to work at the buttons, her hands fumbling with them until finally, they’re all undone and then all she can do is gasp as Santana pushes her bra up roughly and bends down to suck a nipple into her mouth.

Santana switches her attention back and forth between breasts and Shelby’s fucking responsive as hell, whimpering and groaning as Santana rolls her tongue over the hard points of her nipples. When she bites down on one, the noise Shelby makes just about sets Santana dripping. She does it again, and Shelby lets out a breathless, “please.”

In a show of manual dexterity that Santana’s honestly quite proud of, she manages to work Shelby’s skirt down and off with just one hand. It drops to the floor and Santana’s hand is back, two fingers drumming against the fabric of Shelby’s panties. They’re soaked; Santana can feel the wetness leaking through and coating her fingers. She doesn’t know whether it’s just been _that_ long for Shelby or she’s just _that_ good.

Maybe it’s both, but right this second, that’s really not important. What _is_ important is the fact that Shelby’s making noises with almost every exhale now and Santana wants more of them and louder. She slips down Shelby’s body, trailing kisses across her stomach and the edge of her panties. Shelby shifts, moans and when Santana looks up, her gaze is captured by Shelby’s desperate, pleading eyes staring back at her.

The panties are gone, pushed down and away and Santana pauses, breathing in the muskiness of Shelby’s arousal. She fucking loves going down on women. Their taste, texture, fucking everything, but there’s nothing better than the anticipation—on both sides. So she waits, just breathing out gently over Shelby’s skin.

“Santana, _please._ ” It’s a desperate sob and yeah, Shelby begging her is possibly hotter than anything she’s ever experienced before. Well, until she feels the hand in her hair, fingers digging into her scalp and practically forcing her forward.

Her tongue strokes upwards, parting Shelby’s folds then swirling around her clit. The hand in her hair tightens every time she swipes the tip of her tongue over Shelby’s nerves and _God_ , the slight pain is driving Santana insane.

She’s rocking herself into the bed, trying to relieve some of the ache between her own legs, even as she draws Shelby’s clit into her mouth and rolls her tongue directly over the top. Shelby kind of grunts at that and thrusts her hips upwards and Santana’s fairly certain it’s not going to take much more to push her over the edge.

She poises two fingers at Shelby’s entrance, just circling for now, and looks up. Shelby’s head is tossing restlessly and the hand that’s not gripping the back of Santana’s head is clenching and unclenching against the sheets, working desperately for purchase.

Santana’s fingers slip inside easily and Shelby’s whole body arches up at the intrusion. She whimpers when Santana starts to move them; not really thrusting, but curling inside, and rubbing against the spot that—

Shelby doesn’t scream when she comes, but the sound that escapes is definitely loud and Santana works her through her orgasm until Shelby’s just panting lightly, hands dropped limply by her sides. When the last of the aftershocks seem to have left Shelby’s body, Santana removes her fingers, wiping them on the sheets, and crawls back up to lay next to her.

After a few seconds, Shelby opens her eyes and looks over at Santana. “You’re wearing entirely too many clothes,” she says.

Santana just laughs before pulling her top over her head and shucking out of her jeans.

She doesn’t know exactly what this is going to mean in the long run, but all that really matters right now is how Shelby’s hands feel fucking fantastic on her body and how, if she doesn’t have an orgasm in like the next five minutes, she’s probably going to die.

Luckily, Shelby seems fairly willing to oblige in the orgasm department and, well that’s good enough for now.


End file.
